


All in the Eyes

by KleoHoney



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Avengers - Freeform, Denial, F/M, Fluff, Jealousy, Pining, Steve rogers is in love, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:47:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24268426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KleoHoney/pseuds/KleoHoney
Summary: The time Steve Rogers finally let himself have what he wanted and all the moments leading up to it.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 120





	All in the Eyes

**The First Moment**

Steve Rogers has been out of ice for approximately five weeks before he has a thought that’s his alone. He’s been caught in a whirlwind of new culture and all this technology and - yeah, it’s too much. Not that he would ever tell anyone. Not that anyone would ever want to hear that.

He wonders if going home was ever even an option for him. Nick Fury shows up, hands him a file and suddenly he’s off fighting beings from outer space. Oh, and a god named Thor is there, too. No one ever asked him if he had retired or even if he wanted to. 

It’s a week after the Chitauri and New York is in a shit state. Steve is partly responsible but he thinks that maybe he deserves a little slack since, you know, _aliens_. Fury has them all gathered around a table (including Tony who should most definitely be in therapy) and he’s talking about everything that’s been unearthed by the invasion. 

Enhanced individuals, he’s saying. It reminds Steve of the kinda comic books he used to read. Mind readers, super speed, empathy. Individuals who had been forced out of hiding, made to use their powers for survival, during New York. 

Steve doesn’t really agree with it. They’ve lived peacefully, gone undetected, until now. They’re clearly not a problem. But he’s not slept a solid night in over a week (more like four) and he’s bruised in places that he didn’t know could bruise and Tony looks like he’s so the verge of having a mental breakdown so - Steve keeps quiet. Nods along like a good soldier. 

There’s a file on you in front of him. Pyrokinesis, it says. Whatever that means. You have short hair that curls around your ears and looks like you definitely cut it yourself. Your face has on the look of perpetual teenage despair. Steve is familiar with that. You look about fifteen in the picture but your date of birth puts you a few years older than that. 

Fury says he wants to talk to you first. Get you on the team, make you an Avenger. You aren’t the type to strike out, he says, but if you did then everyone would be in some deep shit. Chitauri level shit. 

Steve prickles at that. You look like a sweet girl. The self-cut is kind of endearing, even. He can’t quite make out the colour of your eyes but he’s sure that they’re probably kind. 

**The Second Moment**

Brown. You have brown eyes and yeah, Steve was right. You look kind. 

You’re kind of beautiful, too, but Steve snatches that thought straight out of his head and tucks it away in a box for further examination at a later date. 

The whole team is gathered in a tight room, watching you through one-way glass. Fury is in the other room with you, conducting a This-Is-Not-An-Interrogation interrogation. You’re smart. You told him you’re keeping your mouth shut until he says why you’re here. 

“Is this even legal?” you ask.

You have a British accent. Steve almost laughs. Of course you do. It’s not as posh as Peggy Carter’s, not at all. In fact, you sound really pissed off. Steve squints at Fury when he shifts in...discomfort?

Oh, you’re good.

Your hair is a little longer than it was in the picture and your face matches your age. You have a fiery temper that Steve hadn’t expected. Natasha says it might have something to do with your ability but Steve still doesn’t know what pyrokinesis is so he just nods along. 

It’s hot in the little room. Whatever pyrokinesis is, Steve knows it’s dangerous because why else would Fury cram them all into this shoebox of a room (maybe to watch them squirm). Steve still doesn’t agree with it. You don’t look like you’d hurt a fly. His heart twinges a little when he wonders what you’d done to get yourself caught during The Battle of New York. 

You’re getting more agitated as the clock ticks on. Who’s idea was it to put a clock in the interrogation room anyway? It’s driving Steve mad and his fingers twitch for the shield. 

Sweat is gathering on Fury’s hairline. Natasha notes it and says something about getting him out of there. Steve thanks God and hopes that she does. 

“Can I at least talk to someone who will tell me what the hell is going on?”

Steve volunteers and tries not to think about why. 

**The Third Moment**

Fire. Pyrokinesis means the ability to create and control fire. 

Steve doesn’t realise this until he walks into the gym at five o’clock on a Sunday morning and nearly gets an inch of his hair burned off. For a moment he’s pissed, and then he looks up and - and you’re laughing at him. The kind of laugh that leaves your belly and cheeks aching. The kind that Steve hasn’t had in years. 

He looks at your dimples and his lips twitch. 

You come over to apologise, but you clearly don’t mean it. Your eyes are filled with mirth and you’re obviously holding back laughter at his expense. Steve wouldn’t have minded, though. The last time you’d spoken was in that tiny room and you’d been less than friendly. Not that he could blame you. SHIELD kind of kidnapped you which is definitely not cool. 

“So,” he says, “you can do...fire.”

You grin. “Sure can.” you hold up your palm to show him the flame shaking through your fingers. “Fury got my ass on camera and apparently I’m too _dangerous_ to just be roaming the streets.”

Steve looks at your pink lips and flushed cheeks and the way your breasts press against your tank top and concludes that you are definitely too dangerous to be roaming the streets.

You invite him to fight with you. Steve holds back but he thinks that you do too. When it’s over, you have a couple of finger-sized bruises but Steve has a first degree burn on his neck so you’re even. You clap your hands together and sparks literally fly from your fingers. You promise that the next burn is gonna be on his ass.

Later, Steve looks in the mirror at the burn and tries not to think about how much it looks like a hickey. 

**The Fourth Moment**

It’s your first mission and Steve’s not sure how he feels about that. It’s a simple one; retrieve these files and get the hell out of there. Do not engage unless you have to. The kind that Steve has done a million times and will probably do a million times more. 

But he looks at you, pale and oddly silent, and he feels sick to his stomach. You’re in the quinjet (so is Natasha but Steve barely notices), strapped in and shaking. Steve wants to tear the belts off of you and demand that Fury take you off the mission. How dare he? You never signed up for this. You did more for America during New York than most people have to do in their lifetimes. Isn’t that enough?

The quinjet touches down and you’re barely able to unbuckle yourself. Steve leans down and does it for you without a second thought. He can smell the apple flavoured gum on your breath. He can smell the smokey seductive scent that always clings to your skin. Steve grits his teeth and ignores the way his own fingers tremble when they brush against your suit. 

Natasha is the distraction for the night. She disappears around the front of the building, leaving you and Steve to wait around back. She’s let in and that’s when you make the move. The windows are easy enough to sneak in through and the room is mostly unprotected. The file is not really that important; just a few things that might shed a little light on some bigger issues.

Steve takes out the two guys by the door easily. He didn’t really need to but he wasn’t going to take any chances. He smells burning metal and sees that you’re melting through the locks on the draws with your finger tips. The light bounces off your face at just the right angles (wrong angles weren’t a real thing with you) and Steve finds himself distracted.

You get the file and give him a grin so wide that Steve can’t help but return it. Then you’re both gone. Sneaking back out the way you came. The pair of you wait in the quinjet for just over an hour for Natasha to return. You are excited, talking animatedly about the kind of missions that you would like to partake in the future.

Steve laughs along, goes with it, though he’s not so sure that he’s ready to share you with the rest of the world yet. 

**The Fifth Moment**

There’s a new guy on the team. He’s fast. Super fast and, Steve decides, super irritating. He can’t be any older than sixteen but he seems to have set his sights on you. 

It’s movie night and the kid has wedged himself on the sofa (that’s clearly only meant for one person) with you. Steve spends the first half of the movie glancing over at the pair of you. You seem amused and most definitely know what is going on. Steve finds himself wanting you to say something mean to the kid, something to bring his hopes down real low real fast. You would never, though. You have kind eyes.

The kid places his hand on your knee and Steve startles does hard that popcorn spills all over his lap. You look over and he feels his cheeks go hot. The kid taps his hand against your knee, drawing your attention back to him. Steve grits his teeth. Maybe him and the kid have a little too much in common. 

Steve scoops up as much popcorn as possible and then reclines back. His eyes are on the movie but it’s you that he’s thinking of. There’s more of an age gap between you and Steve than there is between you and the kid. The thought makes Steve uneasy so it gets swept away and locked in the box that’s exclusively for You. 

But Jesus fucking Christ, can that boy get any closer? Any minute now, Steve thinks, the boy is gonna actually attempt to climb into your skin and live inside your brain. The boy is too weird, too young, for you. Steve sees red (fire red) when the boy’s arm descends over your shoulder in a well-practised move.

“Do you mind?” he snaps. “Can we just watch the damn movie?”

The kid leaves. Fucking finally. Steve knew he was being too harsh before the words even left his mouth. Still, he ignores the curious way Tony eyes him and the way Banner smiles down into his lap. 

You pat the limited space left on the sofa where the kid had sat. “Steve, come sit with me.”

Steve nearly trips over his own feet to get to you. 

**The Final Moment**

You’re lying in the medical wing, drugged up to hell and back, and it is most definitely Steve’s fault. If he had just been paying attention, kept his eyes forward, then he wouldn’t have got shot and you would have got pissed. If you hadn’t gotten pissed, then you probably wouldn’t have turned into a 5”6 raging ball of _actual fire_ , burned the building down and then been trapped in the rubble. 

That had been a week ago, and Steve still had nightmares about scrabbling through the rubble, looking for your body. His hands were still scarred and burned from plucking you from the wreck and carrying you back to the quinjet even though you had burned through his suit. 

Banner had come to the conclusion that, outward, you were fine. You had a broken arm and multiple bruises that would probably take months to fade, but your skill wasn’t crushed so there was that. On the inside, you were running a temperature that easily matched fire and had melted the thermometer that Banner had initially used. 

“Her body isn’t sure what to do with all the heat,” Banner said, “but she’ll figure it out. It’s just the first time it’s happened, is all.”

Steve had never felt this guilty in his life. Not even when - yeah. That had been almost quick. This was torture. He was literally watching his teammate _burn alive_ in a specially made hospital bed because he hadn’t been able to move quick enough. 

Steve would still refuse to let you go on a mission without him, though. 

Steve brings his fist down on the bedside table and curses. It would be a lot easier if he could just - leave you alone. He looks at you in the bed, strangely serene, and knows that he’ll never be able to. Never had his heart felt so full on so little. 

When you finally wake up, another week later, Steve openly and unashamedly weeps.

Your eyes are sort of orange now but they’re still kind.

**Conclusion**

Steve is sure that Tony’s galas are one of the worst things in the world. The flashy outfits, blinding lights, cameras. Steve wants to stick his head in the sand and stay there until it all passes.

Then you walk in and oh. Maybe it isn’t that bad.

You’re wearing a red dress, is the first thing he thinks. There’s a slit up the side, all the way to your waist, and that little flash of leg every time you walk is all that he can see. Your breasts look close to spilling out and your shoulders look so soft and your hands are so _small_ compared to his and -

“Hi, Steve.” you say.

Steve wets his lips. “Hi, doll. You - you look...” he trails off, hoping that he’s getting the message across.

You smile and your eyes flicker. “So do you.”

People are walking by now, openly staring at you. Normally Steve gets bombarded at these events, but they’re looking right past him and seeing _you_. Steve wants to shield you and show you off at the same time. Instead he takes satisfaction in knowing that the rest of the world will never know you the way he does. 

Your fingers are white, clenching each other. “It’s hot in here, right?”

“Hot? I thought you don’t feel the heat.” Steve blinks for a minute and then feels more stupid than he’s felt in his entire life. “Oh. Oh. Do you want to go outside for a minute, doll?”

“I would like that.”

The air is a little nippy and Steve almost offers you his jacket before he remembers. You notice the movement and laugh a little, nudging him with your shoulder. Then you’re winding your arm around his waist and leaning in to him and oh, this is The Best Thing Ever. Despite the heat from your body, Steve shivers. 

You both look out over the balcony for a while, taking it all in. Steve’s throat is beyond dry and his mind is racing but somehow he feels the calmest he’s felt in weeks. Your head comes to rest on his shoulder and he wonders if you can feel the way his heart is trying to escape his chest.

You look up at him and he knows that you can. 

When he leans down to kiss you, Steve thinks he knows what to expect. He doesn’t. Your lips are soft, so soft that he groans the second he makes contact. He didn’t think that you would part those lips, let him slip his tongue into your mouth and caress yours with his own. He didn’t think that you would have a tongue piercing, and he didn’t know how it would make his knees weak. 

He didn’t think that when he pulled back, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from saying, “I love you.”

Steve _did_ know that you would say it back. Still, it nearly bought him to his knees. Steve would happily spend the rest of his days that way, on his knees, looking up at you. He would take the serum, take the pain, a million times over just for you to glance at him. Hell, he would take back his sickly body just to hear you say those three words. He knew that you would never ask that of him, though. Your eyes were too kind.


End file.
